like olden days

My rockstar status is still in effect.

It not mega rockstar; it more of a times-have-changed rockstar.

It shows up most when the timing is just right.

Everyone who walked through the door knew me, except for this one lady. She ordered the chicken fingers.

I was having the teriyaki steak tips over Caesar salad.

The bar talked about the homeless across the street and that it looked like there was a new guy and how it was odd that the Pine Street Inn would send a van around to pick them up at that time of day. We talked to the Bud distributor as he came in with banners. We talked about the high-wire act that had just taken place.

I finished my salad as she was having her left over chicken fingers packed up to go.

“I think those are one of the best things on the menu. You choose wisely.”

“Yeah, they were very good.”

“And it looks like they went back to their regular honey mustard sauce. Last week they had a different one.’

“This one was delicious.”

“I used to get the chicken finger or the boneless buffalo fingers all the time until one of the bartenders started making fun of me.”

“Hey! What? Who me? I wasn’t making fun of you; I would just ask every time that you can in whether it would be the chicken fingers or the boneless buffs.”

“So, then I started mixing it up, and I would have to remember the last time I ordered them and then figure out if it was too soon to order them or not.”

“And now you have a complex about it,” the unknown customer said.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“I could eat chicken fingers everyday,” she added.

“Timmy, you can order them whenever you want; there is never a wrong time.”

She sat quiet for a little bit after that, I answered a question here and there from the others in the place and then she left.

I watched her go.